


Ikigai

by primalrage



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Living Together, M/M, No Angst, No Plot/Plotless, Rating May Change, Romance, Slice of Life, Tags May Change, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primalrage/pseuds/primalrage
Summary: "Ikigai... is a Japanese concept that means 'a reason for being'. The word refers to having a direction or purpose in life, that which makes one's life worthwhile, and towards which an individual takes spontaneous and willing actions giving them satisfaction and a sense of meaning to life" (Wikipedia).McCree and Hanzo are still trying to work out this thing between them. A long, relaxing holiday at Hanzo's great-aunt's ryokan is just what they both need (aka McCree is avoiding the recall to smooch on his new man.)
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 66
Kudos: 75





	1. Hanzo and Jesse decide that they are not boyfriends

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my fic Ryuu no Noroi, but it can be read and enjoyed without its prequel as long as you don't mind established relationships! I don't have intentions of bringing anything too specific up from the events of the previous fic, except that YAEKO IS BACK.
> 
> This will be updated with no real schedule, as I intend for this to be pretty much always ongoing. PLEASE feel free to recommend scenes you would like to see - I'd love to fill this with chapters of fluff to cater to your needs :D

Jesse McCree lay in bed, halfway between asleep and awake, watching Hanzo snore and thinking to himself, _I love Japan._

He had not been so sure of that, at first. He'd never had a day off in his life, and all of this doing nothing and relaxing was driving him stir-crazy. The two feet of space that Hanzo carefully maintained in their king size bed did not help, either. Those first few nights, it had felt like miles between him and Hanzo's back. McCree had been disappointed, but not surprised. Hanzo's walls came up and down without sense or warning. He knew that it would take time. 

Then, in the middle of one hot night, that gap had closed. McCree didn't know what had changed, as it had happened while he was still dreaming. He woke up sweaty, with his face pressed in between Hanzo's shoulder blades, feeling, through the thin fabric of Hanzo's t-shirt, the landscape of Hanzo's back against him - the rolling plains of his muscles, the mountains ridges of his spine, and the dips of the valleys between his ribs. He remained there, wide awake, for a moment of indeterminable length. Minutes? Hours? When Hanzo had stirred, McCree had expected him to jerk away, but instead Hanzo had flipped over to look at him. A veil of hair framed his face, thick and sleek, graying at the temples. His eyes squinted against the early sunlight that flooded through the wide windows. In the breathless silence of their room, McCree had committed every detail to memory. It was one of the most peaceful, happiest moments of his life.

Since that morning, they had not spoken a single word to each other about their sleeping arrangements, but McCree found himself free to sleep however he wanted in that bed. Whether that was with an arm draped over Hanzo's waist, or with his cheek on Hanzo's pillow, or with their legs intertwined. 

And this morning, this particular, specific morning, he had woken up to find Hanzo snoring in his quiet, steady way right in his face, their noses inches from each other's. McCree thought that maybe this vacation thing was exactly what he needed after all, and maybe Hanzo wasn't such a grumpy ass all the time, and maybe Japan was the greatest country on the whole damn planet. 

But then the phone rang. Hanzo twitched and rolled away, throwing an arm over his ear, and the spell was broken. McCree clenched his teeth, snarling to himself as he reached for the phone on the nightstand and answered, "Hello?"

"Good morning, Mister McCree!"

"Oh, hey," McCree said with a yawn, his irritation diffused by the friendly, familiar voice, "Good mornin', Yuka."

Yuka was one of the few staff members at the ryokan who spoke English. She had been introduced to McCree upon his arrival under the assumption that McCree might need help navigating a country where he couldn't even read the alphabet. Despite that Yuka had been so welcoming and eager to help, he hadn't gone to her a single time; Hanzo was here, and he translated whatever McCree asked. 

"I hope you were not sleeping."

"No," he lied, sitting up in bed and scratching his beard, "What's up?" 

"Shimada-san asked me to call you and see if you and Hanzo wished to meet her quickly for breakfast."

McCree had been here close to a week now, and he still struggled to remember that, in this place, Shimada-san was neither Hanzo nor Genji, but their great-aunt Yaeko. Even though he was staying as her guest at Ryuuza Ryokan, which she owned, he had barely seen much of her. Despite her age, she was busy every waking hour of the day running her business. He was just beginning to miss her mischievous meddling in his and Hanzo's lives, "Oh, yeah!" he said, "Sounds great."

"Excellent! She will meet you in the restaurant in thirty minutes. Okay?"

"Thirty minutes. Gotcha."

When McCree hung up the phone and turned back to nudge his bedmate awake, he found Hanzo blinking up at him with a languid smile on his face. McCree grinned and sunk back down under the covers; he knew that a smile like that meant that Hanzo was open for business, so to speak, and McCree would be allowed to steal all the kisses his heart desired. "Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," he said, cupping Hanzo's cheek in his hand. He kissed each eyelid, which Hanzo closed for him obediently, one at a time. Then his lips trailed across a cheekbone, to the tip of Hanzo's nose, and finally arriving at his final destination - Hanzo's soft and pretty mouth. 

Hanzo snuck a hand up at the last second, blocking McCree's incoming lips. "Brush your teeth, first, cowboy," he said.

"Son of a gun," McCree muttered, "I'm gonna start keepin' mouthwash on the nightstand." He captured Hanzo's cold fingers in his hands, bringing them against his chest to warm them, and Hanzo reluctantly allowed him to leave some close-lipped pecks on his smirking mouth before turning his head away.

"Who was that who called?"

"Yuka."

" _Yuka?_ "

McCree sighed. Hanzo had made no effort to learn the names of any of the ryokan staff. "One of the girls who works downstairs. She said your aunt wants to meet us for breakfast."

Hanzo groaned and rolled away, leaving McCree alone and lonely in the bed.

While McCree adored Yaeko - loved her like she was his own aunt - he knew that Hanzo was at the end of his patience with her. She had yet to drop her notion that the two of them were getting married. McCree could tell that Hanzo was close to screaming at her, but he wasn't convinced that even Hanzo's notoriously bad temper could stop her at this point. "Come on, Hanzo. Be nice. She loves you."

"I am nice," Hanzo growled from across the room, where he was already slipping out of his underwear and into a fresh pair. McCree was always a little in awe of how Hanzo didn't mind being naked around him. Nearly every day, they bathed nude together in the natural hot springs outside of their suite, and Hanzo always changed clothes in front of him like it was nothing. McCree supposed this was a cultural thing, but, to him, it felt like Hanzo had some kind of super power. How was McCree to be expected not to gawk at him like some creep? Hanzo was built to be admired. Those tattoos made Hanzo's skin a masterpiece. McCree could happily get lost for hours just tracing the ink, kissing it, worshipping it. And Hanzo's ass... It was perfect, like a sculptor had devoted his life to obsessing over its angles and curves. His back was a real work of art, too, so broad and muscled and powerful. McCree had never been attracted to backs specifically, but this one was - 

"Is something wrong?" Hanzo asked, snapping McCree back into his senses. He was staring in the mirror over his shoulder at the vacant, lost expression on McCree's face. 

McCree laughed and tore his eyes away, jumping out of bed to dress himself. "Nope."

"Are you certain?"

McCree chuckled and shook a hand through his hair, embarrassed, "Just sometimes I look at you and get to feelin' a little sappy. Like... how'd I get so lucky? Yer mine, somehow."

Hanzo's expression softened, and he looked back at his own reflection in the mirror to tame his hair with a comb. "Yes. Somehow."

They finished getting ready in companionable silence - McCree brushing his teeth with extra enthusiasm, in case Hanzo decided to pick up where they'd left off - then headed downstairs. The restaurant was adjacent to the lobby and built in a much more modern style than the rest of the traditional old inn, with cozy lighting and a view overlooking the bay. In the evenings, it became lively and bustling with guests who wanted to sample the obscenely expensive, seasonal multi-course dinner, prepared by the classically-trained chef whom Yaeko employed. Now, though, like most mornings, it was peaceful. A few guests drank their teas and read their newspapers at tables by the window, and there was Yaeko in the center of the room, waiting for them with a pleasant smile. She wore a cream-colored yukata with a motif of colorful paper fans, which looked a little childish on the woman who was in her eighties, although McCree never in his life would have admitted anything like that to her. It seemed she had taken pity on McCree that day, as she had ordered a Western-style breakfast for them, and the table was already laden with food that made McCree's mouth water - a basket of fresh rolls, bowls of yogurt and fruit, and plates of fluffy omelets and sausage links. Thoughtful as always, she had even ordered McCree a cup of coffee, since he still wasn't used to the bitter tea that she and Hanzo liked to drink. 

Yaeko rose from her chair, limbs a little unsteady but still remarkably graceful for her age. McCree flung his arms around her and kissed her on top of her head - she was an entire foot shorter than he was - but Hanzo, her nephew's son, merely bowed his head in greeting. If his cool behavior bothered her, then it seemed McCree's warmth more than made up for it, as she looked like she could hardly contain her elation when she settled back down, tucking her yukata beneath her. "Good morning, boys," she said in her slow English, "I apologize that I was busy the past couple of days. There is a festival at the end of the month, and we are preparing for the arrival of many more guests."

McCree dropped into the chair across from her and wasted no time tucking in to his meal. "Festival?" he repeated around a mouthful of sausage.

"Oh, yes," Yaeko said, "Every year, for the summer festival, they have a large fireworks show over the bay. They have stalls of food and gifts in the streets, and many dance performances! Hanzo-kun, you should take him. He will have a good time."

Hanzo sipped at his bowl of tea and nodded. McCree could tell, from the set of Hanzo's scowl, that it was a dismissive gesture. "Oh, c'mon, Hanzo," he said, nudging him with an elbow, "I bet it'll be fun."

"You have seen fireworks before," Hanzo muttered.

"Yeah, but not with _you,_ " he turned to pout at Hanzo, giving him the most pitiful puppy-dog eyes he could manage, " _Please_? It'll be fun."

"Festivals are for children. Besides, we have a clear view of the bay from our room. We will be able to see the fireworks here."

"Hanzo," Yaeko said, and though she was still smiling, her voice had taken the authoritative tone she used with her staff, "Jesse is here as my guest. You are not. You must carry your weight around here and not be lazy. I want you to take him to the fireworks festival."

"You can't - " 

"And buy Jesse a yukata to wear for the occasion. You can afford it, with all your father's money that you have never had to work for a day in your life."

McCree choked on his coffee, nearly spraying it right in Yaeko's face as a laugh caught in his throat. 

Beside him, Hanzo looked as dangerous as a dragon. McCree half-expected him to transform into one right there. " _Fine._ "

Yaeko met McCree's eyes, and he saw a spark of impishness in her expression. "Thank you, Hanzo-kun. You've always been such a good boy."

* * *

Hanzo was not speaking to McCree as they took a taxi deeper into the city, and McCree kept his gaze focused out the car window to avoid Hanzo's hateful expression. Beppu was beautiful and quaint, nestled between the mountains and the sea. Genji had once called it a tourist trap, and McCree supposed that it was, but he'd never had a chance to play tourist anywhere before, so he didn't see why he should let that stop him from enjoying the place. McCree's favorite part was the columns of steam that rose up between the buildings, evidence of the geothermal hot springs that everything, including Ryuuza Ryokan, had been built around. Yaeko had told him that many houses downtown did not even have traditional baths with plumbing, but relied on the hot springs for water.

Their destination was a building on the older side of the city, looking a little run down and completely unremarkable. There was a sign above the door, although McCree obviously couldn't read it. Nothing about its exterior suggested it contained anything worth going in for, but Yuka, who was used to dealing with foreign guests wanting the experience of wearing "exotic" Japanese clothes, had recommended this place highly. When they stepped inside, it was like being transported to another world. There were shelves of obi and handbags and socks in kaleidoscopic colors, and dozens of racks packed with kimono on hangers; their variety of hues and patterns were dizzying. A scruffy, bearded man sat at the counter. He looked like the last person in the whole country that McCree would have expected to handle fabrics of this quality. At the sight of Hanzo and McCree, he was up on his feet and speaking in rushed Japanese, eager to help.

McCree wandered the shop, admiring the displays as Hanzo conversed with the shopkeeper in terse, unfriendly Japanese. McCree wasn't even in the mood for this anymore. Hanzo's sour attitude was ruining the experience for him, and he hadn't even wanted to wear a yukata in the first place; he'd just wanted to enjoy a fireworks show with his... boyfriend? Significant other? He'd never tried to put a name to what he and Hanzo were, and he found it surprising how difficult it was to settle on the right word. 

"Jesse. The selection for men is over here."

Hanzo and the shopkeeper led McCree into a smaller room off to the side, where the colors became less saturated and the motifs less flashy. "Yukata. Summer kimono. Your size," the man told McCree in broken English, gesturing to a single rack. 

"Uh. Okay," McCree said, feeling sheepish about the whole situation, "Listen, Hanzo. You really don't gotta do this. We can tell Yaeko you tried, but I didn't like any of 'em or somethin'." 

Hanzo crossed his arms over his chest, and by the severe angle of his eyebrows, McCree could tell that he would not be allowed to back out of this. He sighed and began to flip through the rack, aware of both Hanzo's and the shopkeeper's eyes fixated on him. McCree had never worn anything like these before in his life, and it was hard not to think of them as being dress-like, so he couldn't picture liking the way he'd look in any of them. The only thing he _could_ picture with any clarity was how hard everyone back at Overwatch would laugh to see him in one.

"You gonna give me some pointers?" McCree asked, "I don't exactly know what I'm lookin' at here."

"Do you always need someone to walk you through buying clothes? Is that why you dress like _this_ every day?" Hanzo muttered, and he waved his hand in McCree's direction, gesturing at his offensive belt buckle and worn cowboy hat. 

McCree hoped this shopkeeper didn't understand enough of what they were saying to realize how ridiculous this was. "Dang it, Hanzo. Gimme a break. I'm _sorry,"_ McCree grumbled.

Hanzo rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip twitched with the beginning of a smile, and his mask of exasperation fell to pieces. McCree knew he'd said the right thing. "You have nothing to be sorry for," Hanzo said, "Here. I like this one." He leaned around McCree, lifting a yukata off the rack by its hanger. It was a blue so dark that it was nearly black, the cotton painted with muted grey sunflowers. 

"Sunflowers?" McCree smirked and ran his palm over the fabric. Yes, he liked this one. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been a few weeks back that Hanzo had taken him to that field of sunflowers near Hanamura, and they had chased each other through the stalks in the rain. That was filed away in his growing bank of favorite memories, too, right up there with that first morning he'd woken up tangled up in Hanzo on that giant bed. "I'm touched, Hanzo. You _do_ care." 

"Jesse, I assure you - if I did not care, I would not be here."

* * *

As the taxi returned them to the ryokan, McCree held the box containing his brand new yukata on his lap. Hanzo sat beside him, scrolling through his phone, so distracted that he failed to notice how hard McCree stared at him. Something was on McCree's mind, and he debated if he had the balls to bring it up or not. With every block of progress the car made, McCree was more and more sure he'd just chicken out. "Hanzo," he finally blurted, and Hanzo lifted his dark eyes, which were handsome enough to give McCree the strength to continue, "what are we?"

"I don't understand," Hanzo admitted, turning the phone's screen off and sliding it back into his pocket.

"Well, I was thinkin'... the term _boyfriend_ seems so... _eugh_."

"Immature."

"Yeah."

"Frivolous."

"Exactly. So... what do I call you?"

Hanzo pursed his lips to contain a smile, "You have many words you call me."

"Heh. Yeah, but... other people don't need to hear that. I mean officially. Y'know?"

Hanzo snorted, "If Yaeko had her way, I would introduce you to everyone as my soulmate."

McCree snickered. He felt guilty right away for laughing at Yaeko's expense, but Hanzo was right; Yaeko was relentless. "What about partners? Like... you n' me, we're partners?" he suggested.

"I think that is suitable," Hanzo agreed, "But if you make a single _howdy, partner_ joke, I will castrate you with an arrow."

"Hanzo, I'll do anythin' you want, so long as you swear to never try 'n say that phrase in that accent again," McCree teased him. He was relieved that they'd had this conversation, but he couldn't help but think that, if they did indulge Yaeko and one day get married, it'd be a hell of a lot easier to just call Hanzo his husband. 


	2. How watching a movie leads to a noise complaint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MysticBolillo wanted to see them dancing, and I was so glad to deliver 8D I don't know if this is the kind of dancing you wanted??? LOL
> 
> Anywaaayyyyyyyys... as always, please feel free to make requests/prompts/suggestions/demands/whatever of scenes for this! <3

It astonished McCree that his life had become so mundane and peaceful. There was no way that this could last. Any day now, he expected everything around him to crash and burn, and he warned himself not to get used to it. That wasn't an easy warning to heed. He had lived his whole life in near-constant danger, always on the run from something or another, but here he was living in a suite in a luxury ryokan, sitting on a couch with Hanzo Shimada of all people, just watching television. Like they were normal people. 

Well, they were _sort of_ watching television. Hanzo had the remote and was flipping, flipping, flipping - he could not settle on a channel. McCree slumped low in the cushions, his feet flung up on the table in front of them, and he listened as the flickering snippets of a language he did not understand bled together into jarring noise with every press of the button. The ryokan got BBC and had a few more channels in American English, mostly kids' programming, but everything else was, of course, Japanese. McCree was picking up phrases here and there, but not enough to make sense of anything on TV. He didn't mind. It allowed him some quiet time with Hanzo each night, their arms touching on the sofa. 

Another thing that astonished McCree - these moments of comfortable silence between them. He had never felt so at ease with another person. Neither of them felt a need to entertain the other. It felt so _good_ and so genuine; it felt like they were best friends. 

So it was impossible for him not to notice the change in Hanzo - the way he leaned forward just slightly, the way his mouth softened in an almost-smile, the way his eyes opened wider and his fingers clenched around the remote. 

McCree turned his attention to the television, curious about what had caused the shift in Hanzo's mood. It was a very old movie, probably from the 1980s or 1990s, if McCree had to guess. The scene was so banal - an office full of Japanese salarymen in their suits and ties. One man wove between the rows of desks. His gait was strange. He dragged his feet so much that his shoes squeaked on the tiled floor, and his hips swayed unnaturally with each step. From the way that the other characters in the office looked at him, it was clear that they did not like him and he made them uncomfortable. McCree could make out a couple of words - _computer, Windows._ He almost laughed. This relic of a movie about boring old businessmen had caught Hanzo's eye, of all things? But he knew better than to tease him about it.

The scene changed. It was now nighttime. One of the businessmen who had made fun of the strange co-worker now sat on a train, staring out the window at the city rolling past. The train came to a stop at a small station, and the man's gaze turned to a specific building. McCree settled in against Hanzo, dropping his head against Hanzo's shoulder. It was a silent message - McCree was content to sit here like this; they could continue watching, if Hanzo wanted to. 

Hanzo interpreted his message, loud and clear. He relaxed into the cushions, too, draping his arm around McCree. "Can you read the sign on the building?" 

He had been teaching McCree both katakana and hiragana, although McCree was learning katakana more quickly, because the words often sounded like their English translation. " _Da... n... su..."_ he read each character aloud, " _Dansu?"_

Hanzo tilted his face to kiss McCree on the temple. McCree felt like he was glowing with happiness, with Hanzo warm against him. "Good job. And do you have a guess what it means?"

"Dance?" McCree suggested, although it seemed almost too obvious to be correct.

Hanzo nodded. "Don't laugh," he said, "but this was one of my mother's favorite movies. It's called _Shall we Dance._ I used to watch it with her."

"I ain't gonna laugh," McCree assured him, "That's a song, right? From _The King and I_?"

Hanzo chuckled. "You've seen it? I'm surprised."

"Believe it or not, my boss back on Overwatch used to be big into musical theater. You wouldn't believe the shit he made me dress up as for Halloween," McCree laughed, "So, is this some kinda retellin' of that story?"

"No, not at all," Hanzo said, "Here. There may be subtitles." 

He pressed a few buttons on the remote, and translated text began to pop up at the bottom of the screen. McCree groaned. "You mean I coulda done that to the TV this whole time?"

Hanzo snorted with laughter and tossed the remote onto the coffee table in front of them. He wiggled back into the cushions, getting comfortable. McCree reached up to comb his fingers through Hanzo's hair, which lay loose against his shoulders, but Hanzo caught his hand, weaving their fingers together. "No, not everything will have subtitles. But this movie is somewhat of a classic."

They fell back into their comfortable silence, their fingers still laced together in McCree's lap. It turned out that McCree had only missed about fifteen minutes of the movie, so with the subtitles on, he caught up and was able to follow along. The building was a dance school, and the protagonist signed up for group lessons, where it seemed he had a fascination with one of the instructors, a beautiful, much younger woman who did not care for him or the other students at all. His strange co-worker was a talented rumba dancer who attended the school, and who encouraged him to stick with lessons despite his reluctance. It was far from McCree's cup of tea, but it had been so long since he'd seen anything on television in English that he was absorbed in the story, like it was the greatest movie he had watched in his life. Over the next two hours, he watched the protagonist grow into an accomplished dancer and repair his relationship with his wife, all while teaching his aloof instructor to enjoy dancing again.

Hanzo's presence was making the experience all the sweeter. McCree was hyper-aware of the barely noticeable rise and fall of Hanzo's shoulder beneath his cheek with every breath and the heat of their touching palms. He could smell Hanzo's shampoo - a scent he couldn't name, something woodsy and earthy and rich - and he drew it into his lungs with each hungry inhale. McCree thought that Hanzo was a hell of a lot more entertaining to pay attention to than any movie, but he knew better than to open his mouth and ruin the moment. Instead, he basked in their closeness and felt a new wave of that same astonishment. This was what a person did with their loved one on a typical night. He wasn't a hero or a villain. He wasn't even a side character in a story, this time. Sure, somewhere out there Talon was still up to their bullshit, but _for once_ that was someone else's problem. Overwatch, his friends, were on it. He accepted that maybe there wasn't much he could do out there with them, and maybe _this_ was where he belonged. This country, this room, this man's arms. 

"This isn't as interesting as I remembered it being," Hanzo said apologetically.

It was the final scene. The crowd waited with bated breath to see who the lovely instructor would select for a partner for the final dance of the night at her going-away party. It was obvious that she would pick the protagonist, as the first notes of the song began to play. The song was a cover, and a strange one, but McCree recognized the building melody immediately.

McCree leaped to his feet and held his hands out in front of him. "C'mon, Hanzo," he said, "I'll even let you be the king."

Hanzo's expression was stony, set in a look that plainly said _no_ \- but even so, he rose to his feet and brought his hands up beneath McCree's, taking them lightly in his own. On television, the singer belt out that first long note, " _Shall - "_

Hanzo jerked McCree in close against him. Twin manic smiles spread across their faces, and they began to dance - not the stuffy waltz that the characters were dancing on screen, but a clumsy, half-assed recreation of the iconic dance from _The King and I_. They spun around the room, circling the furniture, bouncing on the balls of their feet, heedless of the way the tatami groaned and the room shook beneath each heavy, merry step. Breathless as they swung each other, they shouted along with the television, each surprised that the other new the words: 

" _When the last little star has left the sky  
Shall we still be together   
With our arms around each other  
And shall you be my new romance?  
On a clear understanding that this kind of thing can happen  
Shall we dance?" _

On the television, all of the characters at the party were piling onto the dance floor to join the two protagonists, but neither Hanzo nor McCree were watching any longer. They laughed and clung to each other as they flew around the room, narrowly avoiding the low table that threatened to slam into their shins. McCree's face ached from grinning so wide. He'd never seen Hanzo like this - his eyes lit up with excitement, his cheeks pink like he'd been drinking, his hair bouncing into his face. McCree didn't follow Hanzo's lead so much as he chased him. 

All too soon, the song was over. Another melody began as the credits rolled, something more mellow and jazzy. They came to a stop at the center of the room, their shoulders heaving. McCree lifted his hand to brush some of that long dark hair from Hanzo's sweaty face, and he leaned in to kiss him. Hanzo smile melted against McCree's lips, and he cupped his cheek to kiss him back. They panted against each other's hungry mouths. Hanzo licked McCree's lips apart to get in deeper. For a long and heady moment, they grappled with each other, barely able to catch their breaths, their mouths crashing together slick and hot and needy.

It might have gone on for hours that way, or it might have escalated to something even more, but they were interrupted as a new song began while the credits continued, a version of _Save the Last Dance for Me._ McCree broke the kiss, gathering himself back together again as Hanzo chased his mouth with small pecks on the lips.

"You know this dance?" McCree asked him, "Cuz I sure don't."

"Not at all," Hanzo said.

But they pulled close again, swaying together as the singer crooned. It wasn't the wild, spirited dance from before, but they were both still winded from that and glad for something more relaxed. Hanzo expected McCree to have two left feet, but he was surprised when the cowboy found the song's rhythm and matched Hanzo's steps. "You're good at this," McCree said.

"My parents forced me to take ballroom dancing lessons as a boy," Hanzo replied, "Genji took them too, when he was older, but he was awful at it. He was impatient. He always tried to rush."

He spun McCree, who only just managed to avoid stumbling over the sofa, and then they came together again. McCree laughed, "You should give me lessons!"

"Absolutely not. I was nine years old. I barely recall the basics."

"Aw, little nine-year-old Hanzo takin' dance lessons," McCree teased him, "I can just imagine how cute you musta been."

Hanzo dipped him to shut him up. McCree beamed up at him, feeling weightless, suspended in Hanzo's arms. For a second, it was just them, surrounded by the veil of Hanzo's hair that fell close into McCree's face. McCree felt the blood rush to his head. 

_Cause don't forget who's takin' you home  
_ _And in whose arms you're gonna be -_

The phone rang.

McCree jumped, slamming his forehead up into Hanzo's jaw, and then he was falling. He hit the tatami with a grunt, a sharp pain spiking through his tailbone. Above him, Hanzo was wincing, massaging his jaw with a palm. 

"Sorry!" they both said in unison, then laughed.

The phone rang again, and McCree managed to pull himself up to his feet with a groan of pain and scrambled across the room to answer it. "Hello?"

"Mr. McCree."

It was one of the ryokan staff, a young woman named Momoko whom McCree had spoken to a couple of times, because she spoke a good amount of English. "What's up? How're you?" If she was calling to ask them to go meet Yaeko for something, McCree fully planned on telling her a definite _no._

"Is everything okay, Mr. McCree? The guest staying in the room below you just called the front desk. They reported a lot of banging and heavy footsteps."

McCree had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing. "Really? We'll let you know if we hear somethin', but it's been real quiet up here."


	3. Yaeko's Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, as always, feel free to make requests of anything you'd like to see in this fic, as it's somewhat aimless and just about whatever comes to me at the time :) 
> 
> This should be disgustingly fluffy enough to distract you from how awful the world is for a few minutes lol... and I know I've been quiet lately, but I am working on a McHanzo fic for an event that I am personally soooooo excited about! I can't give you more details about it just yet, but it's really lovely so far.
> 
> I appreciate all of you <3

Yuka was working at the front desk that shift, and she held the scheduling book in both hands as she scanned the columns of names, events, and meetings. "Shimada-san is booked," she apologized.

Yaeko usually was. She loved to entertain guests personally, often dropping in at banquets to visit with old friends and serve drinks herself. Ryuuza Ryokan was as popular and successful as it was thanks entirely to her. It seemed absurd to have to make an appointment with Yaeko, as if she wasn't McCree's dear friend and Hanzo's great-aunt, but she was a busy woman, so that was what they had to do. 

McCree drummed his fingers on the counter. Beside him, Hanzo was still, looking patient and thoughtful. 

"I could squeeze you in at four o'clock," Yuka said, "The restaurant won't be open for dinner yet, but I could put you in the Garden Room. You could pick some food up in town or arrange to have your meal delivered here."

"That would be perfect," Hanzo said, although McCree's eyes went to the clock. Twenty-eight minutes after noon. That didn't leave them with much time. 

"What'll we get her?" he asked.

"I was thinking of picking up a box of confections."

"Are you kiddin', Hanzo? _Candy?_ After all she's done for us?" 

Hanzo rolled his eyes, and McCree could have punched him, then and there, right in front of Yuka, if he didn't look _so damn handsome_. Afternoon sun poured into the lobby, bathing Hanzo in warm, golden light. His hair was still drying from their soak in the hot springs and hung loose around his shoulders; the silk ribbon that normally bound his tresses was wrapped around his wrist. He even had the audacity to smell good, like cedarwood body wash. "I'm not just referring to a bag of M&Ms, Jesse," Hanzo snapped, "What do you even get for a woman like Yaeko? She buys whatever she wants for herself."

McCree turned to Yuka, who stared up at him through her glasses with a sheepish smile. Their bickering was clearly making her uncomfortable. "What d'you think? If it was your birthday, what would you wanna get?"

"Well, sweets _are_ nice," she answered. 

"See?" Hanzo said.

" _But..._ " Yuka added, "the staff chipped in to buy her sweets. We gave them to her this morning. So -- well, since you're asking my opinion -- I would personally like to get something different. If it were me."

McCree cracked a grin at Hanzo and parroted back to him, " _See? "_

Hanzo scowled at him, and he might have opened his mouth and said something cruel, had Yuka not piped up to interrupt them, "I would want something pretty. She is always dressed so nice. Maybe an accessory?"

"I think that's a swell idea," McCree said. 

"Must you always make things more difficult than they need to be?" Hanzo muttered, but he knew he had lost this fight, so he decided to drop it.

He asked her to call for a cab, and, as they waited for their ride to arrive, they settled into comfortable armchairs in the lobby and stared out through the windows onto Beppu Bay. Something about the tranquil waters and distant, swooping gulls made it impossible to stay mad at each other, not that either had truly been _mad_ to begin with. There was some other word for the way that they felt when arguing with each other, and while neither man knew what that feeling was precisely, it was nothing quite so negative as _mad._ Hanzo shook a hand through his damp hair, releasing a fresh waft of that cedarwood scent, and McCree gave his ankle a nudge with the toe of his boot. "I just wanna give her somethin' real nice to make her happy, that's all."

Hanzo unwound the ribbon from his wrist and held it in his teeth as he pulled his hair back tight. After flattening every stray strand into place, he took the ribbon and began to tie it into a knot around his hair. Jesse gawked at the deftness of his hands. It was amazing how, after all this time together, he still found mundane, everyday reasons to fall more and more in love with Hanzo. Finally, his hair up and secured, Hanzo smiled at him. "You make me happy," Hanzo said, "Which, in turn, makes her happy. In fact, I would guess that if we were to elope right now, that would be the greatest gift to her in the world."

This shut McCree up; he couldn't even think, let alone form words. 

Their cab arrived, and it was a silent ride downtown while McCree churned over Hanzo's words. He knew that Hanzo had been joking, but he also knew that Hanzo was right - Yaeko absolutely wanted them to get married some day. However, he and Hanzo had only know each other for a couple of months now, and they'd only really been together romantically for a few short weeks. It was one gift that he couldn't give her. Not yet anyway. McCree didn't know _how_ to be married. He had grown up mostly without parents to set an example for him, and Overwatch hadn't exactly been full people in healthy, stable relationships. In fact, now that he was really thinking about it for the first time, only the Lindholms had really been able to make their relationship work. Because of this, his whole concept of a happy marriage was based on what he saw on television. He had been taught that marriage meant arguing over shared closet space, hosting dinner parties despite hating each other's friends and family, and colonial style houses with white picket fences - which was accompanied by a whole new set of anxieties. Despite being in his thirties, McCree had never mown a lawn, paid a water bill, purchased furniture, or had to stock a pantry. The entire concept of being someone's husband was _terrifying_ to him. 

But marriage also meant that he would be together with Hanzo indefinitely, and that seemed worth it.

Technically, weren't he and Hanzo already sharing closet space? They'd yet to fight over it a single time, probably because he was glad to just allow Hanzo to use it all. And McCree didn't hate Hanzo's family; he loved Yaeko and Genji. They could probably host a dinner party just fine, if they had to. Even the house shouldn't be an issue for them, because they could just stay in Japan. The houses he had seen didn't really have lawns to mow at all, and Hanzo could probably handle the water bills and the pantry. He'd probably _insist_ on picking out every piece of furniture himself, so that was another thing McCree shouldn't have to worry about. They could figure a marriage out over time, just like they'd figured out everything else so far.

"I was thinkin'," McCree said, his interruption of the silence in the car startling both Hanzo and the cab driver. 

Hanzo muttered something under his breath in Japanese. McCree was certain that it was an expletive. 

He reached across the middle seat and dropped his left, cybernetic hand into Hanzo's lap. "If we ever did get married one day, how would I wear a wedding ring?"

Hanzo's stern face softened in the way that McCree loved - his eyebrows unknitted and his jaw unclenched in one simultaneous release, followed by his lips drawing up into a relaxed smile. He took McCree's hand in both of his own, flipping it over and brushing his fingertips down McCree's artificial palm. No one had ever touched McCree's arm that way, not ever. In that moment, the love he felt for Hanzo ballooned in his chest until it was hard to breathe. 

"You don't have to wear a ring," Hanzo said, "We would be married, and that would be enough."

"I'd wanna wear one, though. Cuz it came from you, and cuz I earned it."

Hanzo gave a soft, breathy laugh. "You certainly have earned it," he agreed, and in a rare public display of affection (for the cab driver was not hiding his glances in the rear view mirror) he brought McCree's hand to his lips and kissed the metallic base of his ring finger, right where a wedding band would have been worn. "We could wear it on our right hands, then. That way it could stand on its own, apart from my tattoo."

McCree had never thought about the way that Hanzo's tattooed left arm complimented his own synthetic left arm, but in that moment, it just felt like another sign that this was all meant to be. 

"Oh," McCree said, "We should go to a jeweler."

" _What? "_

McCree gave a nervous laugh. "I meant for Yaeko. Get her, I dunno, earrings or somethin'?"

Hanzo wove their fingers together and let their hands drop into the middle seat. "Ah, yes. That's a good idea."

So when the cab dropped them off at a bustling shopping complex close to the train station, they went straight to the directory. McCree stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched over Hanzo's shoulder as he navigated the lists of Japanese characters, looking for a jeweler. McCree scanned the text for familiar katakana, because he was getting pretty good at translating those, but when Hanzo said, "Here," he was pointing to a square on the map labeled only in kanji.

They took the escalators down to a basement floor, past cute boutiques and storefronts stacked with designer accessories. Their destination was a brilliantly-lit jewelry store wedged between a shop selling extravagantly decorated pastries and a crowded chocolaterie. "Ain't this gonna be a little pricey?" McCree asked. He could practically smell the luxury oozing out of the place. 

"You're the one who insisted on getting her a birthday gift," Hanzo said. McCree had been thinking more along the lines of a department store, but he wasn't going to admit that now. He was mentally working out how much he could afford to spend, when Hanzo added, "Don't look at the price tag. Just pick out something you think that she would like. I'm paying."

" _Hanzo -_ "

Hanzo ignored McCree, speeding up to pass him and lead the way inside, where they were faced with glass cases displaying handsome watches, rings that sparkled like fireworks underneath the overhead lights, necklaces inlaid with gemstones of every color imaginable - it was all a little overwhelming for McCree, who'd never been around anything this nice in his life outside of museums. An employee called out a greeting and hurried forward to begin an enthusiastic conversation with Hanzo. McCree knew that Hanzo didn't mind translating for him, but he wandered away from them to browse the display cases on his own. The lights in here were so bright that he was almost convinced he'd walk out of there with a sunburn, but every piece of inventory shone and glistened around him. There was something a little bit magical about being surrounded with so much opulence. He admired bangles and cufflinks and diamond rings. He decided that it was best to stay far away from the rings and the conflicting feelings they stirred up inside of him, so he moved to a smaller display tucked into the back of the store. It contained hairpins of all shapes and colors, the kind Yaeko wore with her kimono as she worked. Something like this would be perfect for her, he decided, but how could Hanzo possibly expect him to ignore the price? He stood, paralyzed by indecision, listening to the soft piano music playing throughout the store. Maybe it wasn't too late to just head to the chocolaterie next door? 

"Jesse?" Hanzo appeared at his side, the employee following on his heels like a dog. His dark, piercing eyes scanned the hairpins, and he gave a nod of approval. "Good thinking. Yaeko would appreciate these."

"I bet they cost a fortune," McCree tried to protest, but Hanzo's hand settled into the small of his back, warm and solid and gentle. 

"Which one do you like?" he asked.

McCree pointed to the center, at a silver hairpin shaped like grape leaves. Each cluster of grapes was made up of fat, stunning pearls. The salesman began some speech, none of which McCree caught, but it was surely about the quality of the pearls, the symbolism of the grapes, and other details that would have been meaningless to McCree, even if he had understood them. When Hanzo started translating, McCree held up a hand to silence him. "I don't care what he says. I care what you say. Do you think she'd like this one?"

"It suits her."

"And it ain't overpriced?"

"No. I think the price is fair." McCree nodded, trying to work out how to bring up splitting the bill, but Hanzo seemed to read his mind and added, "You know that I can afford it."

"Of course I know that, but it don't mean nothin' if it ain't from me, too."

"Don't be stubborn," Hanzo snapped at him, "I owe you my life."

McCree opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again. Fighting with Hanzo was rarely worth it - either Hanzo won the fight, which was generally the case, or McCree won, and Hanzo was left in a sour mood the rest of the day. Even if he talked Hanzo into letting him split the price, the only thing he'd accomplish would be pissing off Hanzo and ruining Yaeko's birthday. Deciding to drop it, he sulked by the door as Hanzo finished the transaction with the salesman. It was stupid for him to get so worked up over this. Hanzo had grown up in a castle, after all; his family had been loaded. Still, McCree couldn't shake the feeling that things were not equal, and that Hanzo and Yaeko had done more for him than McCree could ever do for them in return. His gloomy mood persisted as they went to the next shop over to pick up a fat, fluffy cheesecake for Yaeko and then left the shopping center to hail another cab back to the ryokan.

McCree wanted Hanzo to scold him for brooding, but the whole car ride, Hanzo was also tense and silent beside him, clutching the bag from the jewelry shop in his lap and staring out the window at the glimpses of the passing sea. Something was on his mind, and McCree wanted to ask about it; he felt almost as though Hanzo had no right to be deep in his own thoughts when McCree was so lost in his own. At least one of them needed to keep their shit together. Unfortunately, their driver was a talkative one. He knew a little English, so he probed McCree for answers about where he was from, what he was doing in Japan, and where he had visited so far. ("Hanamura?" the driver had repeated, "Oh! You need to go there in the spring! It's the best place in the country to see the cherry blossoms! Did you go to Kanezaka, too? I have a niece who works in the cat cafe there!") McCree was glad to chat with him, but he was also frustrated that he couldn't figure out what was bothering Hanzo.

Back at the ryokan, they stopped at the front desk in the lobby. Yuka's shift was over, and in her place was one of the other girls who couldn't speak much English, so McCree stood by as Hanzo arranged with her to order in some food for their dinner with Yaeko. That final detail taken care of, they headed back to the Hanare Suite. When the elevator closed, shutting the pair of them in relative privacy, McCree finally got a chance to ask - "Is somethin' on yer mind? You've been real quiet since we left the store."

"As have you," Hanzo replied.

"You know why I'm upset," McCree said. 

"I do," Hanzo agreed, and he sighed, "I understand your insecurities, but I wish you would listen to me. My father left me a fortune the likes of which you cannot imagine, and I do not like to spend this money on myself. I promise you, Yaeko feels the same way. Before you and I came to stay here, she was a very lonely woman. She has never married and never had children of her own. Caring for me and for Genji, and now caring for you, is what gives her life purpose. One season ago, she believed that the Shimada family died with her. Can you imagine the weight of that burden upon her? And if it had not been for you, Jesse, then she may never have learned that Genji was alive, and I may never have returned to her. So, truly, we could transfer all our wealth to you, and it would still feel like inadequate compensation."

The elevator staggered to a halt, and the doors slid open with a chime. McCree followed Hanzo to the door to their suite, and, as Hanzo let them in, he said, "I just don't want either of you to think I'm takin' advantage of you."

"I don't. I would never."

Hanzo leaned up on his toes to plant a kiss on McCree's pouting mouth, and McCree snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him in closer. He chased Hanzo's retreating lips before they were out of reach and urged them apart with hungry sweeps of his tongue, kissing him deeper, drawing a moan from him that nearly made him feral. He kicked the door closed and backed Hanzo up against it, but Hanzo slipped a hand up to McCree's chest, pushing him away. He was smiling in that wily way of his that McCree loved, his irises blown wide with lust, but he shook his head. "Not now, Cowboy," he said, even though he gathered up fistfuls of McCree's shirt in his fingers to keep him close.

"Aw, why not, Hanzo? We got plenty of time," McCree purred, his hands settling on Hanzo's hips.

"I would have to take another shower before dinner. My hair wouldn't dry." 

"All right, all right. Wouldn't want you to mess yer pretty hair. Lemme just kiss on you?" 

So Hanzo pushed past McCree and led him by the hand to their bed. He didn't always tolerate intimacy, but when his mood was right, this was one of Hanzo's favorite things to do - to just lay there, propped up in the pillows with his eyes closed, basking in the attention. It was one of McCree's favorite things, as well. He kissed the furrow between Hanzo's down-turned brows, feeling Hanzo's forehead wrinkle against the press of his lips. He kissed along Hanzo's hairline, following the sharp point of his widow's peak, drawing the scent of his shampoo deep into his lungs. He kissed the ink scales of the dragon that coiled up Hanzo's muscled arm, the fine hairs standing upright against the caress of his breath. And when he kissed Hanzo's mouth, the connection was like two live wires - a tangible current, white-hot sparks, shocking electricity. McCree could have devoured him like an animal, but he let Hanzo set the pace, slow and languid. For a man so hard in every other way, his tongue seemed impossibly soft, but it was also fervent and certain. Hanzo's fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at his scalp, drawing him in for more. 

As badly as McCree would have liked to let his hands and kisses wander further, per Hanzo's request, he kept it all as chaste as possible, even though his pulse was throbbing with every wet click and slide of their mouths. The shadows lengthened as the room filled with their panting breaths, the minutes melting away into hazy timelessness. Would it be so bad to forget about dinner and just keep going all evening? Yaeko would probably have been thrilled for them. But then Hanzo opened his eyes and tilted his face away, dodging McCree's incoming lips. "Jesse," he said, and McCree knew their moment of bliss was over. 

"Yes, Darlin'?"

"I want to give you something."

Hanzo leaned off the side of the bed, reaching for the bag from the jewelry shop that lay forgotten on the floor. He pulled it up onto the bed between them. From within, he lifted a box of black velvet. McCree felt a panicked knot form in his chest, making it hard to draw breath. "Are you - "

"No," Hanzo interrupted him. He knew what McCree was asking, but hearing the words spoken aloud was too much for him to bear. "Perhaps one day, but for now just take this as you will."

He passed the box to McCree, trying to make the gift seem very casual, but no amount of acting could detract from the seriousness of this moment. McCree was sure he was about to puke all over the bed. He tried to hide the shaking of his fingers as he opened the box. Two matching rings were nestled inside, bands of meteorite and rose gold. He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to fling the box and its contents off the suite's balcony and rewind to five minutes ago when they were sucking on each other's tongues. "How the hell did you get these without me noticing?"

"I bought them while you were busy sulking across the store," Hanzo said, "I would have liked to get you properly fitted, but I wanted to surprise you. The larger one is yours. The jeweler took a guess. He said we can have it resized."

"Are these wedding rings?" McCree asked, and the word _wedding_ seemed to fill up every corner of the room.

"Wedding bands were the only rings that the store kept in stock for men," Hanzo explained, "They have no more meaning than what we assign to them. As I said -- _take this as you will_."

"O-okay..."

_"Okay?"_

"Okay."

* * *

The Garden Room got its name because a back door slid open onto the ryokan's garden, where a stone stepping path wound through the mossy grounds, around a koi pond and between tall, healthy maple trees that turned vibrant, warm hues in the autumn. The room was too small for parties or banquets, so Yaeko used it to host intimate tea ceremony gatherings. When the weather was pleasant, she might also use the room to interview potential new hires or to have one-on-one meetings with members of her staff, instead of using her tiny office packed with filing cabinets that was located behind the lobby. But this day, Yaeko's birthday, the heat and humidity were oppressive. McCree and Hanzo decided to keep the door closed to take advantage of the weak air conditioning. 

McCree was disappointed to see that Hanzo had ordered Italian. He had been eating noodles all the time lately, more often than he'd ever eaten before in his life - zaru soba, yakisoba, udon, tsukemen, and more kinds of ramen than he had ever known existed. He was thinking how much he'd love a giant, juicy steak, but then Yaeko had walked in, and her eyes lit up at the sight of spaghetti and meatballs. "Happy birthday!" McCree shouted, sweeping her up into a crushing hug. She was wearing a brightly-colored yukata with a pattern of fireworks, and her hair was done up in silk chrysanthemum pins. 

"Oh, you boys didn't have to do this for me," she said. Her eyes glistened with happy tears. 

They settled around the table, which was cluttered with steaming containers of pasta, plates of toasted garlic bread, bottles of wine, and a mountain of antipasto. Hanzo made room for the cheesecake they had purchased. He had become quiet and business-like, the way he always did around Yaeko. McCree knew that Hanzo struggled to let his walls down around her, but that was just fine; he was glad to lead the conve you, too, Hanzo! You're such a good boy."

McCree laughed, nearly snorting a mouthful of Merlot through his nose. Hanzo shot him a scowl. "Y'know, it's a shame Genji can't be here. I bet he really woulda liked to tell you in person."

"I said the same thing," Yaeko agreed, "I invited him to come stay for a while. Wouldn't it be nice to catch up with your brother, Hanzo?"

"Yes."

If she noticed Hanzo's clenched teeth as he twirled his fork through his spaghetti, then she didn't react to it. "Unfortunately, he said he was busy with Overwatch."

"Yeah, I bet they are pretty busy," McCree said. He'd been trying, the past few weeks, to avoid thinking about whatever Overwatch was up to. Hanzo had forbidden him from diving too deep into any news, in case something about Overwatch came up. _Genji knows how to reach you,_ Hanzo had told him, _if they need you, they will let you know._ Still, McCree felt that he should be out there with them, preferably with Hanzo at his side. 

"Well, they're all welcome here any time," Yaeko interrupted his thoughts, "They have saved both Genji's and Hanzo's lives now. Our busy season is almost over, so I would be able to spare the rooms. You should try to talk them into coming, Jesse. I bet they would listen to you."

McCree could see how tense and dour Hanzo was looking across the table, so he decided to try and pull the breaks on Yaeko's idea before she got it rolling. "I dunno that they could come here. I mean, you've got Winston, and he's a gorilla - "

"A gorilla?" Yaeko repeated. 

"Yeah. Huge. He'd scare away all your guests," McCree laughed, "I'm sure they'd all love the invitation, but it ain't a good idea."

Hanzo stabbed a meatball and shoveled it into his mouth. 

Yaeko went quiet for a while, and it was clear, from her vacant expression, that she was lost in her thoughts, trying to work out how she could host a gorilla in her ryokan. McCree felt bad for bursting her bubble. He knew that Yaeko didn't like being told there was something she couldn't do, especially when it came to her business. He almost opened his mouth to apologize, but then her expression changed. Her gaze became sharp and focused, her eyebrows raised up towards her hairline, and her mouth fell open in a tight little O. McCree recoiled from her, because she seemed to be staring directly at him with all of that intensity. It made him want to shrivel up. It made him want to run out of the room. 

"O-Obachan?" 

Yaeko slid her sleeves up her arms so that they would not drag through the food, then she reached across the table, taking McCree by the hand.

Hanzo froze with a piece of garlic bread at his gaping mouth. 

"What is this?" Yaeko asked, rubbing a thumb over the ring on McCree's finger. Instead of waiting for an answer, she whipped her head around to look at Hanzo's hand. At the sight of the matching ring there, the old woman burst into tears. 

Hanzo pressed fingers to his temple and inhaled. When he began to say something, McCree interrupted him, feeling certain that Hanzo was about to be cruel, "It's nothing. Really. We was just at the jewelry store, gettin' you a present." He met Hanzo's wide, shocked gaze across the table and tilted his head to indicate for Hanzo to give her the gift bag.

"Here," Hanzo said, and he lifted the bag in both hands towards Yaeko, "It is not much, but happy birthday."

"Thank you both. This means so much to me." Yaeko took the bag from him and set it down beside her without opening it, but she would not have her attention so easily diverted. She took her napkin from the table and dabbed at the moisture gathering in the wrinkles beneath her eyes. "When I told Hanzo that you two were soulmates, he did not believe me. He said there was no such thing as a soulmate. Just look at the two of you now!"

McCree glanced at Hanzo, who was staring at the opposite wall and refusing to look either of them in the eye. "Obachan, please. I think you're misunderstandin' what - " 

"Jesse. Hanzo. This is the best birthday gift that anyone could ever give me," she said. 

McCree shut his mouth and swallowed, feeling defeated. Why had they decided to wear these stupid rings? What had they been thinking?

Yaeko rose to her feet and swept across the room, her yukata hissing across the tatami, going first to kiss McCree on the forehead and then to kiss Hanzo. Her eyes were still wet. "Oh, it's almost time for me to get back to work, and I have to fix my makeup. I have to run, but thank you. We'll talk more soon. Breakfast tomorrow? Oh, both of you, thank you so much. This is the most beautiful birthday gift I could have asked for."

Before McCree or Hanzo could find their senses enough to utter any further protests or even a _you're welcome,_ Yaeko had hurried out into the hall, leaving them with a table full of uneaten food. They had not even cut into the cheesecake. The bag from the jewelry shop, still containing her gift, sat untouched on the floor. 


	4. Pillow talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaayy so TheOrwangatan suggested bit of them in the cat cafe, and I DEFINITELY have not forgotten that request! I just felt like they needed a reason to have left the ryokan and headed back towards Hanamura/Kanezaka, so.... YEAH this chapter has a tiny bit of set up/story. And we can get to cat cafe fun in the future. 
> 
> thank you for reading and humoring me and being lovely people. I'm sorry my updating is inconsistent ; - ; As always, feel free to lmk your suggestions, too!

McCree’s full bladder woke him up one humid night that summer. He tried to ignore it and sleep through the urge, but after a few minutes of tossing and turning, he ended up caving in. He swung his legs out of bed and stumbled through the dark, keeping a hand on the mattress to guide his wobbly, half-asleep steps. The other side of their suite, where the windows faced out onto the bay, got ample light from the moon and stars, but their bedroom was tucked at the back of the ryokan, in the shadows of the hills. Because of this, the only illumination came from their bedside alarm clock, which read 2:43 in glowing red numbers.

“I am sorry,” Hanzo said, “Did I wake you?”

McCree had not even noticed that Hanzo wasn’t asleep, but now that he looked, he could see that Hanzo was propped up on the pillows, holding a cup of tea that he had just made with the room’s electric kettle. Hanzo did have restless nights often, plagued by nightmares or anxieties that McCree could not even pretend to understand, but he would typically seek comfort from McCree when that happened. He would curl in against McCree, and McCree would whisper to him and caress him until he drifted off. It was worrisome that Hanzo was choosing to suffer alone tonight.

“Nope, not at all,” McCree answered with a frown. But toilet, first - sleepless partner, second. Once he had relieved himself and done a lazy job of washing his hands, McCree returned to bed, his footing a little more certain now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. “What’s got you up? Somethin’ on your mind?” he asked. He draped himself on top of Hanzo, his head knocking into the cup and nearly spilling tea across the bed. 

Hanzo rolled his eyes at McCree’s clumsiness. He huffed a sigh and placed his tea on the nightstand, freeing up his hands so that he could fold McCree up into a hug. Together they sank back down onto the pillows. He was working on being open with McCree about his emotions, but, in this case, his emotions had felt so tangled and uncertain that it wasn't easy to put them into words. “I have been thinking about the future,” he explained, combing his fingers through McCree’s messy hair. 

McCree closed his eyes, relishing the touches, letting his own fingers trail over the ridges of Hanzo’s muscular torso. The future? This was new, coming from Hanzo, who was always stuck worrying about the past. “Oh yeah? What about?” 

“I cannot stay at my aunt’s ryokan forever.”

“O-oh?” McCree's eyelids flew back open, and he searched Hanzo's tense, unhappy expression. It wasn't his typical scowl; there was something heartbreaking in his features. That was no look that McCree ever wanted to see on Hanzo's face, especially not when he spoke about their future. McCree was no fool; he knew this arrangement was temporary. However, he had always thought that they would have more time together than this. “I mean, of course I knew that. I guess I just didn’t reckon you’d get so tired of me so soon.” He tried to keep his tone light and jovial, because he knew that if he let Hanzo see how much he dreaded this conversation, then Hanzo would shut down and refuse to continue talking about it.

“Please, do not misunderstand. I am in no hurry to leave here. This has been good for me. I have been healing,” Hanzo said.

“I’m real glad.”

“But each day, it becomes more difficult to enjoy my time here, knowing that I have not made arrangements for what comes after.”

McCree understood. He had been on the run for so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to be settled somewhere, but now that he’d had a taste of this life, he wasn’t sure if transitioning back to his old way of living would be easy. He felt a newfound ache for normalcy. He was sure that Hanzo now craved it, too - a place to come home to, a bed where he could lay his head every night. These weeks of domesticity had spoiled them both. But even though McCree did understand, that didn't prevent him from worrying. What if Hanzo’s future had no place for him in it? 

“I have a duty to return to Hanamura,” Hanzo continued, “I must protect my birthplace and honor my family’s past. Shimada Castle needs extensive repairs. You have seen the damage for yourself. And I cannot just call any contractor. The building is six hundred years old. For many years, I turned my back upon the fortune that was bestowed upon me following my father’s death, but now I think I must finally begin to use it in order to return Shimada Castle to its former glory.” 

McCree nodded to show he understood, even though he really didn’t. Matters of family, wealth, honor, and castles... this was all way over his head. “So you wanna go back to Hanamura?” 

“It is not a matter of what I want. I _must_ go to fund and oversee the repairs. Even if the Shimada line ends with Genji and I, perhaps the castle can be given over to the city. I am sure they will make a museum of it or open the temple to the public. I never hope to see the castle swarmed by tourists, but I also cannot allow it to fall into the wrong hands. Many other clans would be eager to buy and ruin the Shimada ancestral home, if for no other reason than to metaphorically piss on my father’s grave.”

“Sounds like you got it all figured out, then. So what’s keepin’ you up, pumpkin?”

Hanzo drew in a deep breath, then released it with a long exhale. McCree's head rose and fell with the swelling of Hanzo's chest. He gave him time, staring up through the darkness into that face he adored so much. He mused that most people looked at Hanzo and saw a man who was in control of his emotions, never realizing there was a storm of anger, guilt, grief, and self-loathing that raged constantly inside of him. However, because of the events surrounding their first meeting, McCree knew the truth; Hanzo was _never_ in control. That tempest was tearing him apart, and Hanzo was a man just trying to take shelter from his own thoughts. It hurt McCree to see Hanzo look so sad and so lost, like this bed, and that cup of tea, and McCree's arms were the only things preventing him from being swept away by his internal tsunami. 

When Hanzo still could not find the strength to answer, McCree flopped backwards onto the bed, tugging Hanzo on top of him. Hanzo grunted and struggled for a few seconds before settling, comfortable, in his arms. “You don’t gotta talk about it, but I’m here for you if you want to.”

“I know you are, Jesse. That is why I love you.”

McCree blushed, and he was glad for the darkness hiding the color on his cheeks. Maybe, one day, he could hear those words from Hanzo without getting flustered like a school boy? “Love you, too, Hanzo.”

Hanzo took McCree’s bottom lip between his own, kissing and sucking on it in a content, gentle way. McCree didn’t even return the kiss, just smiled and basked in the attention, his hands rubbing comforting circles up and down Hanzo’s back. He wondered if Hanzo was trying to distract him from the conversation. If that was his plan, then it was certainly working. But then Hanzo sank back down, having tasted his fill, and pressed his cheek to McCree’s shoulder. “I have so many memories of the castle - both good and bad - but I was a different man then. I am scared to return there, Jesse. I am scared that it will undo all of my healing. I do not want to go back to that place or to that life.”

Oh, his poor Hanzo... McCree swept stray strands of hair from his face and kissed his forehead. “Hanzo, that ain’t gonna happen,” McCree told him, “And if it does, I’ll come over there and knock some sense back into you. You’ll be okay. You’re strong. You’re the strongest man I know.”

“I do not see how you can say that,” Hanzo said, “When it comes to these things, I am so weak. Genji was always the strong one, where matters of the heart and mind are concerned. Our lives would have been much better if he had been firstborn.”

“But then you wouldn’t have me,” McCree teased him. It was a risky move - Hanzo might respond well to the flirting, but he also might get angry, assuming McCree was belittling his emotions. 

Instead, Hanzo responded with sincerity: “If we truly are soulmates, then I believe we would have found each other again in that other life. Perhaps you would have liked me more.”

“Aw, Hanzo,” McCree sighed, nuzzling his face into Hanzo’s hair, “That ain’t possible. I could never like anyone more than I like you right now, as you are.”

Hanzo gave a happy hum into McCree’s neck in response. 

"You can do this, Hanzo. I believe in you." 

Hanzo did not answer. McCree listened to his quiet breathing, hoping that he might have finally fallen asleep. He continued stroking Hanzo's back until his own eyelids began to feel heavy. Just as he was about to shift Hanzo back onto his own pillow and tuck him in, Hanzo spoke, “I will hate to leave this.”

McCree sucked in a sharp breath. Those words hit like a bullet. Why did they have to talk about this now? Why did they have to talk about this at all? It almost would have been easier for Hanzo to just disappear in the night. He’d rather hurt after the fact than waste their time together hurting about it in advance. 

“Of course, it won’t be soon. We will have plenty of time to enjoy Yaeko’s hospitality. The reconstruction could take a very long time. Months, I would imagine,” Hanzo said. He sat up in the bed with the blankets bunched around his hips. His expression was all business, now. He looked almost excited. “And I’ll have the living quarters remodeled, as well. It might help me get over the past, if I see that whole wing of the castle torn up and rebuilt. We could make it our own space.”

“We?” Had McCree heard him correctly?

Hanzo rolled his eyes, “I’m offended that you think me so selfish, Jesse. I would obviously let you have your say in the remodeling.” 

McCree’s mouth stretched in a sleepy, blissful smile. He put his hand on Hanzo’s thigh, caressing his smooth skin. “No, I mean… I’m just surprised, is all. I didn’t think you were includin’ me in your plans for the future.”

“Are you planning on getting sick of me, Jesse McCree?” Hanzo asked, wearing a wicked smile. 

“Never,” McCree replied. 

Hanzo sunk back down against the mattress, his head hitting the pillows, and he sighed, his breath tickling McCree’s cheeks. “I know you’ll eventually be called off to Overwatch,” he said, “I still have not made up my mind about my own involvement in that. But when all of this is over, you will always have a home in Hanamura, with me.”

McCree draped an arm over Hanzo’s waist and pulled him in closer, despite the night’s sticky heat. “I ain't gonna lie, Hanzo, I was worried for a second there that you were kickin’ me out.”

Hanzo might have made some scathing quip, but he realized that he was, finally, feeling drowsy himself. He let his eyelids close and clung to McCree, so grateful that this conversation had happened. A great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “So if I find a contractor and have to go to Hanamura to meet with them, then you’ll come with me, yes? We can make a whole trip of it, if you’d like. There are a hundred places I would like to take you.”

Touring Japan _with_ Hanzo… the thought was almost surreal. In this tiny pocket of daily life they’d created for themselves at the ryokan, his relationship with Hanzo felt real and solid, but the idea of facing the rest of the world together made it all seem like a farce - some twisted comedy invented to freak out Genji, perhaps. Still, McCree wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity. “I think you still owe me a date at that sunflower field,” he said.

“We will have to go soon, then, while they are still in bloom,” Hanzo mumbled. 

"How long're they in bloom?" McCree wondered.

But Hanzo never responded. He had faded into slumber, where he was a dragon flying in graceful loops over the sea of yellow sunflower heads, and McCree was there, running through the stalks beneath him. Hanzo smiled in his sleep, and McCree leaned forward in the dark to kiss that mouth, before drifting off to join him in that dream, too.

* * *

Both men were still exhausted when they woke for an early breakfast with Yaeko. She had room service deliver the meal to their suite, and the three of them sat around the low table in their living room, eating steaming bowls of rice, miso soup, seasonal vegetables and salt-grilled sweetfish. She was, as always, bright-eyed and cheerful, rambling on about her plans and the ryokan's guests for the day. McCree knew it irritated Hanzo, who preferred peace at this hour, but he never minded; it meant that he could sleepily stumble through breakfast and not have to contribute to the conversation in any significant way until he felt more alert. 

This morning, however, Hanzo interrupted her. "I am going to find a contractor to look at the damage done to Shimada Castle and begin any necessary repairs. Jesse and I will soon be planning a trip to Hanamura to meet with whoever I hire and give them a tour of the castle grounds. I imagine we might be gone for a week at most."

McCree wanted to roll his eyes at how stiff and formal Hanzo always was with the old lady, but he knew old habits died hard. "Unless you wanna kick us out for good and get your suite back," he teased her. 

She reached across the table, placing an arthritic hand on his wrist. Her eyes were kind, so full of love. "I know you are joking, Jesse," she said, "But never joke about that. Why, I would keep you here with me forever if I could! But I know you boys are eager to build your own life. Take all the time you need." 

She released his hand and wet back to her rice, but he saw there were tears in her eyes that she was holding back. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but he didn't want to draw attention to it. "We might go visit some fun places," he told her, "I ain't had much of a chance to play tourist." 

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea!" Yaeko said, her face lighting up, and she dabbed her moist eyes with a napkin, "Hanzo, I will give you a list of places I want you two to visit. Wedding venues. I've been doing research." 

Hanzo choked on his broiled eggplant, and McCree patted his back while Hanzo sipped at his water, trying to clear his throat. "I have told you countless times - " Hanzo growled, but McCree interrupted him.

"We'll be glad to go check 'em out, Obachan." Hanzo glared at him, and McCree mouthed: _Just humor her._

"Wonderful," Yaeko said, "I'll have one of my girls downstairs put together a binder with all of the information. I'll try to shorten my list so that you only need to visit five or six different cities, otherwise you'll get overwhelmed. You will have to take pictures of everything, so that you can show me which one is your favorite. I have many connections, so as soon as I know the dates of your trip, I'll call my contacts to let them know when you'll be coming. Of course, my selection depends on _when_ you'd like to get married. What time of the year - "

She was going off at about a hundred miles per hour now, and McCree felt like he'd never recover from the whiplash. Hanzo's scowl grew more furious with every new sentence Yaeko spoke, and McCree just mouthed to him - _Oops._


End file.
